


No more dark, sad, lonely (k)nights

by dearericbittle (dutchmoxie)



Series: Sterek Bingo 2k19 [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Cosplay, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Matchmaker Erica Reyes, Spark Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-06 01:16:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18840652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dutchmoxie/pseuds/dearericbittle
Summary: Derek is an Alpha without an emissary, so his nosy betas made sure he attended the convention. Stiles is clearly in the wrong convention hall, because his Batman cosplay does not appear to be going over well.





	No more dark, sad, lonely (k)nights

**Author's Note:**

> For Sterek bingo: Alpha & Emissary Gathering AND Cosplay.  
> Two in one, aka the only way I'll get even remotely close to a bingo.

He’d put a lot of work into the Batman costume. 

Unlike some people, he couldn’t just buy something and make it work for him - yes he was totally talking about Jackson and his modeling career. He was Stiles Stilinski, Berkeley student and super nerd who finally got his first opportunity to go full cosplay at a local con. 

Ready-made costumes weren’t right for him, and anything actually accurate just wasn’t in the budget. They just didn’t get the details right. 

(Holy shit, that made him sound like Flynn Rider in his mind, awesome!)

But he’d done it, gotten all the right items on his utility belt, gotten the cowl perfectly shaped and fucked up his voice just enough to sound all dark and raspy if people wanted to talk to him. 

All he was waiting for was his Catwoman. The most important woman in his life since freshman year - Lydia no longer counted, she never did notice him in high school, and she was all the way on the other side of the country making mediocre men cry. 

Erica was doing the same thing in a whole different way on the West Coast. Which was one of many reasons for her being so important to him - she was a badass, and had been even before she’d gotten over her epilepsy. Stiles had seen some harrowing attacks before then. 

Ugh, no new texts telling him that she was even on her way. 

Knowing Erica, she was going to be more than fashionably late again because she was too busy getting laid - though he really couldn’t blame her for being more lucky in love than he was. Boyd was a fucking catch, and so was his Catwoman. They deserved each other. 

It was just a bit (really, a lot) annoying that she’d told him where to be and when, and she proceeded to not show up on time, leaving him awkwardly standing in the lobby of the convention center - as the only person in cosplay. 

Everyone else was in suits or other kind of formalwear, which made this the first prank in what would undoubtedly go down in history books as the infamous Reyes-Stilinski wars. And he was going to be the victor, he was damn sure of that. 

But first, calling her out on it, so she’d think she’d won. 

“Erica, you are living up to your villainous alter ego,” he told her voicemail, because obviously she wasn’t going to pick up the phone. “I would expect this kind of joke from the likes of Jackson, but not from you. Unless you are setting me up with a hot guy dressed as Superman. That, I would expect from you. That, I would actually appreciate. A guy has needs.” 

The dark-haired guy on the couch across from him had a blush high on his stubbled cheeks as he took off his dark-rimmed glasses. Well, then. 

Apparently Erica had somehow magically provided a Superman. Guess she wasn’t in his bad books after all. 

“Clark, is that you?” He just had to go there. “It’s me, Batman.” 

His voice was properly deep and raspy, trying to keep the joke going a little while longer. Going from talking about Superman to meeting a real life version of Clark Kent was just too much for him to ignore. If the man had been clean-shaven, he could have passed for the hero easily. Even now, the super attractive facial hair was barely pushing the comparison from his mind. 

“Bruce, how do you know Erica?” The stranger appeared to have been listening to his phone call. 

Rude. 

“She’s my Catwoman, Clark,” he was pretty sure that was an extremely clear explanation. “It’s quite a lot to presume that we’re talking about the same Erica though.” 

While Erica was not a super common name, it certainly wasn’t as rare as Stiles. Or Mieczyslaw, because his mother wanted to traumatize him from birth. That was how she showed her love - she was absolutely where he got all of his… personality from. Fuck, he missed her. 

This situation would make her laugh so much. 

“It is,” Scruffy Clark Kent was all eyebrows now. “I assume it’s the same Erica who told me to wait here for the guy who was interested in the emissary position. She told me I’d recognize him when I saw him.” 

So this guy was totally a werewolf, and that made it a whole lot easier to start putting the pieces together - Erica had been trying to set him up with her Alpha for months now, and so far she’d failed at even getting them in the same room. Because Stiles was smart enough to avoid getting tangled up with pack problems - he had all the information but none of the risk. He’d found out Erica’s secret because he couldn’t not figure out any secret he came across, and his Dad found the information about all the supernatural beasties super helpful. 

But being on the outskirts of a pack was courting danger. 

“Emissary?” He batted his eyelashes, all innocence. 

It was so much fun pretending that he didn’t know about the supernatural, just to watch a powerful Alpha werewolf scramble for an explanation that did not include any mentions of lycanthropy or magic. Yes, sometimes Stiles liked to get a little power trippy for the few seconds that he had any power in a room that was undoubtedly filled with werewolves. 

Sometimes it sucked being the fragile human, but he wouldn’t change that, no way. 

“Oh, fuck.” Eloquence from the stranger who wasn’t really a stranger after all. 

“Wow,” Stiles laughed at him, because he was that asshole, “you’re easy to freak out. You must be Derek. Nice to meet you, Alpha Hale.” 

The eyebrows were really something to behold, especially in their current confused configuration. Congratulating himself for the mental alliteration, he prepared to gloat for a little while, while the Alpha got his shit together. 

Even dressed as Batman at a werewolf convention he still had the upper hand. He liked that. 

Cue more confused questions from Derek Hale. “So you are an emissary?” 

“Just a spark,” he shrugged, because his magic skills were not the most awesome thing about him. “Nothing special. I’m pretty good with mountain ash, and me and the Nemeton got pretty tight. But that’s it. I’m no Hermione.” 

Because even though Stiles was no Gryffindor, he could damn well recognize magical talent. Even fictional magical talent. 

“Who is?” Derek seemed to agree. 

“You make an excellent point, big guy,” Stiles was pleasantly surprised, feeling a grin tug at the corner of his mouth. “But I’m pretty sure Erica only said that emissary stuff to set us up, awkward matchmaker style. But you don’t have to feel obligated. I’m sure there’s a ton of emissary candidates wanting to talk to a strapping young Alpha like yourself.” 

Ugh, he was so awkward in front of hot people - he should have gotten used to it years ago, just because of all the exposure therapy. Sure, Stiles wasn’t ugly, but compared to the straight-up models that he’d gone to high school and/or college with, he was absolutely the homely boring dude on the CW show that was his life. 

What? Werewolves totally meant CW, right? 

“Why couldn’t it be both?” Derek just had to argue with him. “Both is good.” 

He really fucking hoped that was an intentional reference - if it was, he was going to have to marry this guy. Because it was the best fucking thing from a weird underrated movie about two bi boys who were potentially poly and just, yes. 

_ Douze points _ to the werewolf. 

Who could smell everything he was feeling, which was currently a lot. A whole lot. 

“Is it?” He started to stammer. “Good, I mean. Because I don’t think you meant what I think you meant when you said what I think you said.” 

Stiles knew he probably reeked of arousal at this point (and sweat, from the heat of this damn costume that he was still wearing for some reason), and he was just waiting for the ensuing awkwardness. Sure, Derek wasn’t being an asshole about how into him Stiles was, but that didn’t actually have to mean something. Most werewolves didn’t actually care that much about their partner’s gender, so at least that wasn’t the issue, but Derek was… Well there was probably a reason he’d never actually let Erica set them up before. 

“I did,” was all Derek said, smug smirk on his supernaturally attractive face. 

“What?”

“I meant it,” the look on Derek’s face made him feel like prey in the best (dirtiest) way. 

Shit, did he hit his head and start hallucinating? He couldn’t even tell because he was still covered from head to toe because of the epic costume that was just starting to feel way too hot in the worst way. 

“Okay, seriously,” he took off the cowl, “how can you look at me like you’re the big bad wolf who’s going to eat me when I’m dressed like Batman?” 

He didn’t want to kinkshame, but seriously? This was taking the whole blind date, set-up thing to a whole new level. Was Derek seriously game to offer him the emissary position and what sounded like a date, sight unseen? That did not scan - this did not seem like the same guy with massive trust issues that Erica liked to complain about from time to time. 

In the most loving way, like an annoying older brother she loved to hate. 

“Do you really think I don’t know who you are, Stiles?” 

What the actual fuck? 

Clearly he said that out loud, because Derek actually laughed - and it was a glorious sight to behold. 

“You’ve been friends with Erica for ages,” Derek gave him so much sass. “And you stopped hiding your voice roughly five minutes ago. It wasn’t hard to figure out.” 

And he was smart too - ugh, so not fair. Seriously, Erica had mentioned all the wrong things about Derek, focussing too much on the Alpha strength and not enough of the bunny teeth and the way he was totally keeping up with Stiles. 

Still, today’s set-up wasn’t too bad. 

“Okay, Sherlock,” he tugged at the neckline of his costume to get more air. 

Apparently being Batman helped him get the guy - suck it Scott! His best friend did not appreciate the awesome of an orphan boy growing up to make the world a better place without any fucking superpowers. And that was why he was totally Robin. 

Derek just grinned, looking him up and down. “I think I preferred Clark.”

“You are obscenely attractive and I want to date you.” 

What else was he supposed to say? Was he supposed to beat around the bush? Probably, but he just wanted to get the hell out of this costume and into Derek Hale’s pants. 

“Lunch?” Derek didn’t even seem surprised. “I know a place nearby that has great burgers.” 

One way or another, he was going to get this guy in a Superman suit. Maybe he’d send him to Erica’s house for a brief visit, so she’d know what she’d unleashed by screwing with Stiles - before coming back where Stiles could take a good look at that ass in spandex. 

“How do you feel about spandex?” 

“Maybe for our anniversary,” Derek hadn’t stopped with the shiteating grin. “What do you know about mates?” 

Stiles had no idea what he’d done in a previous life to deserve this, but he was not going to ask any questions - not about that anyway. He was going to ask a metric fuckton of them at lunch, because the whole mates thing? He was unsurprisingly super into that. 

“Clearly, not enough,” Stiles knew his eyes were wide as marbles. 

After lunch, he refused to let Derek rip the costume off him.

They were going to need it for their anniversary. 


End file.
